Alps log: epilogue

In all, an outstanding trip. I saw beautiful things, considered life, and returned better looking than at my departure.

The glaring subtext to my adventure had been the impending start of my new career and, more generally, undeniable adulthood. Being in your “Mid-To-Late-Twenties” means your self has reached a hardened, stable state. Hopefully you have taken full inventory of your sharpest weapons and your armor’s chinks. You have a sense of your potential and your limits. You have some career inertia going. Now what, really, is the question.

Hearing I did this trip alone, people have asked me if I came to any grand conclusions about life, believing– justifiably so– that I spent much of my time squating on a mountain top, stroking my beard. Sure, I did indeed contemplate the depth of the human condition, but mostly, I replayed the entirety of my life through my mind. I watched my polite childhood, my awkward growth, my supposed bloom. I traced and retraced where it all went wrong (somewhere in 6th grade, with an ill-fated rivalry). I reviewed my entire career as a romantic companion (a true blooper reel). I surveyed love and measured marriage. I plotted my own life against about those of bright and distinguished stars. I marshalled my every what-if, perhaps-so, dreamy-eyed, phantasmagorical aspiration, and… and… and… I don’t know.

Each day brings me closer to both (1) comprehension of this world, and (2) death, and that’s just something I’m going to have to get used to.

Those days immediately proceeding a return are always the most provocative. You still have that travel state of mind, but are clearly in your comfortable surroundings. Do you use your new eyes to take stock and reevaluate your Everyday? Part of me wants to purge my life and feed reader, and start anew. Digest a few more books. Send a few more letters. Romance a conversation with a bottle of wine. Love someone.

Who knows. How’s that for a conclusion?

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